


Inktober

by StarRoseColors



Series: StarRoseColors' Themes [4]
Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Related Fandoms, Dorothy and Alice, Original Work, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Wizard of Oz & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, I will add more as I go, Inktober, Inktober 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 18:49:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRoseColors/pseuds/StarRoseColors
Summary: My stuff for Inktober!





	1. Frail

There was a tap.

The girl was pale and small. Long white hair was braided under a pearl and diamond diadem and she wore a white dress with white flats. Her skin was pale, and her pink cheeks were emphasized by the whiteness of the rest of her. She tapped a fast rhythm on the glass.

“You see, Alice is coming back. She promised. She doubly promised, to the stars all the way to Wonderland.” She let out a half-hearted giggle. “Red will forgive Alice. Alice and White and Red will be friends forever. Forever and ever and ever.” She stopped, lost in thought.

Another tap. “You let Alice through. Can you let Blanche through?”

This time it was a fist. “You let Alice through, let Blanche through!” A pair of fists hit the mirror’s surface. “You let Alice! Let me through! LET ME THROUGH!” She stopped suddenly. “Mustn’t be ill-behaved. Must be a good queen. Must be a good White. Then Alice will come back. Because…”

A small smile curled her lips. “Because she promised.” Due to her tantrum, the pink had darkened to red and her braid had started coming undone. Stopping her tapping for a moment, she leaned against the glass.

“And Hatter will be happy.” Hatter was unhappy, that much was clear. “And Marchie will be happy because Hatter is happy.” Marchie did all they could, but sometimes they weren’t enough to cheer up their twin. Both of them certainly wanted Alice back. “But what will Scarlet think?” she said worriedly to her reflection.

Scarlet didn’t like Alice and Alice didn’t like Scarlet.

“Scarlet doesn’t like Alice anymore. But she promised!” Clear tears started to roll down her cheeks, white roses forming when they hit the ground. “She doubly promised, to the stars all the way to Wonderland.”

“Oh, my queen!”

Hatter hurried up the hillside. He gripped the frail girl’s hand and gently tugged her so they were eye to eye. “It won’t let me in.” Blanche said sadly.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t hit it, it would feel more positive to you.” Casting a longing look at the mirror, he guided the harmlessly mad girl away. “C’mon. Marchie was worried when they couldn’t find you.”

* * *

Alice blinked at Dorothy looking over the window seat. A book had clearly been thrown aside. “What are you doing?” she said, entering the room.

“I heard a tapping and it was driving me insane.” her normally placid cousin huffed. “I was wondering if it was an insect or something.”

She couldn’t help but raise a brow. “Alright. Well...it’s not happening anymore. Hunk’s here and wanted to see if we wanted to come with him to Castlebar.”

Dorothy’s annoyance smoothed into cheer at the mention of the older boy. “Sure!” Grabbing her jacket, she hurried down the stairs. Alice couldn’t help but smile at her cousin and the help’s shy but audible greetings.

Seeing that she was alone, she carefully approached the mirror that hung in the attic. Staring at her reflection- her dye needed reapplying- she let out a huff. It moved her bangs. Ever so gently, she reached out…

And tapped the mirror.

“Can you let me in?” she pleaded.

There was no answer.

Dorothy called her name. Alice let out a “Coming.” and hurried down the stairs.

Nobody on this side or the other side saw a paw reach out, a claw coming out.

_ Tap _ .


	2. Enchantment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a sunny afternoon.
> 
> And Detective Sage Homes has locked herself out.

Doctor Dawson Watts, at first meeting, immediately pegged Detective Sage Homes of Driver Street as not a people person. It was a trait, he learned from her brother Archie, she had inherited from her mother. (He had never met the fabled Squiress Homes- Sage avoided the mention of her to such a point he figured that she was  _ afraid _ .) It soon became commonplace for Sage to look over the crime scene while he talked to the people.

A few months later, he also found out that she was a bit absent-minded.

Sage had a sharp mind for deduction and criminal activity. The most infinitesimal detail of a case did not escape her notice. But a client’s name, where she put her hairpins, pouring sugar into her tea could slip her mind too easily.

Or leaving her flat without her keys.

He was out on a mid-afternoon walk when he found Sage perched on the stairs leading to 222 Driver Street. (He lived in a flat approximately three blocks away.) She was sitting perfectly, face angled to the sun. With her eyes closed, she looked like the perfect image of serenity. Most people would be fooled into thinking she had just come out for a bit of sunshine. Only Watts noticed the stack of notes she pinned down with her elbow.

He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Lazily- probably an attempt to salvage whatever dignity she had left- her head lowered and one blue eye opened. Her gaze was piercing. “Ah, Watts. Yes, it is. Like an enchantment.”

Flowery language like that was a further signal.

“I assume you were at the library?” He nodded to the notes. “One would’ve thought you would’ve immediately gone to your chemistry set once you returned. I didn’t expect you out here, enjoying the sunshine.”

She tilted her head. Her eyes opened, revealing her annoyance as they narrowed. “A...change in plans arose.”

Watts couldn’t help himself. Pouring innocence into his voice, he continued. “A change in plans? My, what change?”

Sage smiled in a way that showed she was gritting her teeth. “The very reason why I make sure you have a spare key to my flat.”

Watts couldn’t help it. The slightest admittance to locking herself out of Driver Street made him bend over. Sage’s glare became sharper as he laughed. He swore, for a moment, she even growled. It took a moment, but he finally calmed. Smoothing his mustache down to prevent further giggles, he let out a sigh. “I know you know how to pick a lock.”

“Mrs. Bailey brained me the last time I did that.”

That sent him into further laughter.

“I see no humor in being hit over the head by your landlady’s heaviest pewter teapot and then spending the rest of the afternoon in a daze!” Sage protested over his laughter. “And then said landlady had to explain that she thought I was a burglar to the inspectors. Lee couldn't look me in the eye for a  _ week _ !"

"Alright, alright, calm down.” Watts walked up the steps, reaching into his pocket. “Why didn’t you track me down?”

There was a moment before Sage tensed. “Not a word of this to the Yard, you hear me?”

Watts couldn’t help his grin. "And Ms. Bailey always leaves the first Friday of each month to visit friends." He reached into his pocket as she turned.

"Except for every fifth month, where she stays for extra cleaning." Her quip done, Sage turned back to staring at the street. A flower seller was yelling at a constable across the street and she watched in interest. Watts smiled as he reached for the…

Key.

Empty space met his fingers.

Sage took notice when he started rooting through his pockets. "Everything alright?"

"... You're going to laugh."

She did. It was loud and long before she finally managed to calm, patting the spot next to her. "Better sit down. It'll probably take a while."

It took around an hour. Bailey opened the door to water her roses to find the two sitting on the steps.

It was a nice afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sage is inspired by Sherlock Holmes and Basil of Baker Street, with a bit of Irene Adler mixed in. She's tagged on my Tumblr: starrosecolors.


	3. Dizzy

Scarecrow had never entered Tip's room.

It was one of the unspoken rules that had been set when their arrangement had started. Other rules included keeping iron away from Tip, make sure the distinctive emerald green streaks in their hair stayed hidden and shut them up if they started being  _ too _ knowledgeable about Oz. Scarecrow just wanted his people and his kingdom safe. Tip wanted to make sure their head stayed on their shoulders.

But this…

Scarecrow needed information.

And Ozma would be the only person alive he trusted to possibly know.

"Tip?" He called, knocking on their door. There was no response. "Tip, I need to come in. Alright?"

The room was the same ornate room all guests of the palace stayed in. (Scarecrow ignored the fact that there was a special room set up for Dorothy.) Tip was draped across the bed, throwing a ball at the wall. It hit the wall and rebounded into their hands. The process was repeated, again and again. He cleared his throat. "Um, hey."

They paused, sitting up. "Hey! King Scarecrow. Did...you need something?”

“Yes, actually.” He handed them the parchment. “Do you know someone named Langwidere?”

Tip looked over the message. “I...the name seems familiar. But honestly, I don’t think I would remember.”

Scarecrow let out a hiss. “Right. It’s been a while. Anyway, this ivory tower showed up on the edge of the Deadly Desert and the resident inside sent this message to us. She says her name is Princess Langwidere.”

“Well, I can’t remember.” Tip let out a displeased hum before perking up. “The Royal Archive would know though!”

“The...Royal Archive?”

“You haven’t heard of it?”

“No. Jellia Jamb led me on a tour when I took power and she never mentioned a Royal Archive,” Scarecrow said. They handed him back the message. “But the staff were replaced when the Wizard took power. So, it’s possible that…”

“Nobody knows about the secret rooms?” Tip finished with a grin. They hopped off the bed. “I bet that’s what happened. I’ll show you.” They hurried out of the room. Scarecrow was left blinking.

“The...the secret rooms?! Tip? TIP!” He ran after them. He managed to catch up to them when they turned a corner. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Um...yes!” Tip ducked into a sitting room. Scarecrow gaped as they started to stack furniture up to the mantel. They delicately moved to the painting hanging over the empty fireplace. It was a painting of a dark-haired young man. Guessing from the emerald green eyes and streaks in his hair, it was a Pastoria. Tip knocked on the frame. “Knock knock!”

The painting swung outward, revealing a dark passage. “Ta-da!” Scarecrow couldn’t help but smile at their cheer. Tip helped him up, and both entered the secret passage.

Torches lit the darkness as the two walked. Scarecrow stopped when they arrived at a fork in the road. “Which way?”

“Hold on.  _ Through the painting of Henri...down down into the darkness... _ Oh!  _ Spin until you’re dizzy!” _

“What are you singing?”

The child shrugged. “Just a little ditty. I came up with hundreds of them so I wouldn’t lose my way down here. Now!” They crossed their arms. “Spin.” He blinked. “You heard me! Spin until you’re dizzy!”

“Alright, alright!” Taking a deep breath, he started spinning. A flash of green told him Tip had started spinning as well. Faster and faster Scarecrow spun until he tripped. A cry escaped him as he fell. There was a grunt from next to him, suggesting Tip had fallen as well. “What was that for?!”

“To choose a passageway.”

“And you couldn’t communicate that?”

“It would’ve ruined the spell.” Tip helped Scarecrow to his feet. They nodded to a small corner of the wall. Squinting, he was able to make out a sigil. Under the dust of time, it shimmered emerald green. “The first one I made without help. I made different ones with different motions.”

He blinked before managing an “Ah.”

“Now, come on!”

Humming their ditty, Tip led Scarecrow through the secret passageways. Finally, the song finished with another “Ta-da!” A large door stood in front of them. They grabbed the handle, which twisted easily.

The door let out a creak as it opened. Lights flipped on as they entered. It was a massive room, walls covered in bookshelves. All were filled with scrolls. Quills, shimmering with emerald green magic, wrote on parchment. “Back when Queen Lurline established Oz, she created the Royal Archive. It keeps track of all the going-ons of the current rulers of Oz, as well as the queen’s descendants.” Tip turned to the king, spreading their arms.

“Welcome to the Royal Archives!”

**Author's Note:**

> Also can be found on my Tumblr: starrosecolors. I take prompts!


End file.
